Cowboys on the Road Tonight
by msjgatsby
Summary: I could look at anyone but you now.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** While on vacation, my ipod reset and lost all my songs. So on the drive back, I had nothing to listen to but old (mostly scratched) cds. Luckily one of my favorite songs on the Counting Crows Album, Cowboys, was not scratched. So I listened to the same song for essentially 10 hours straight on repeat, and in my head wrote this story.

If you haven't heard the song I highly recommend it (though maybe not on repeat for 10 hours).

**New Note:** Apparently there is an entire underground community I did not know about that likes to go around looking for stories to report. It has a problem with me using parts of the lyrics as framing references. Which is a shame, because my entire interest in the story is dividing the song up into chapters. It's unfortunate these trolls exist in the creative community, but I don't feel like fighting with strangers, so I'm gutting my favorite aspect of the story.

I have to be honest, without the lyrics I may not have the inspiration to finish this story.

To get around this minor technicality, I would advise googling the lyrics. It's so arbitrary that the forum encourages you to play with parts of intellectual property and forbids you to creatively play with others. Such a shame.

* * *

It seemed every other streetlamp was burnt out, as Mike drove down the darkened streets of Los Angeles. The road ahead seemed pitch black in comparison to his knuckles, which glowed white from the tight grip of both his hands on the steering wheel. His eyes stayed locked ahead, unseeing, as he concentrated on nothing but the road and the task before him.

The radio plays softly in the background, but is unheard over the roar of Mike's thoughts, until the soft familiar strums of a guitar catch his attention.

He stares at the radio, positive that he's being haunted by a ghost.

The song Desperado is playing.

Bello's favorite song.

Mike hasn't thought about the gangster in months, but the song suddenly makes him realize the very memory of Bello has been haunting him silently in the background all along. The ghost of Bello has been wrapping around Mike's neck, seeping into his skin, poisoning him. Mike looks in the rearview mirror and his blue eyes are blood shot and empty. He is no longer the white knight. He was dark and twisted, prepared to do whatever was necessary to achieve his ends. He was no different than Bello.

What had Bello called them? Oh yes. Cowboys.

Mike was no longer on the right side of the law. He was an outlaw. A cowboy.

No matter how pure his motives may have started off, somehow desperation had led him to break the rules in pursuit of his own brand of vigilante justice. Mike could dress it up with as many pretty justifications and rationales as he wanted, but in his heart he knew what this was he was intending to do.

It was murder.

The idea of it makes his stomach twist, but he's surprised with how easily that feeling passes. Mike has killed men before, but he's never murdered anyone. Is this really all that different? Either way, the world will hold one less man.

"_…You better let somebody love you, before it's too late._" The song fades quietly to an end, and Mike can't help but smirk at the irony of the last words of the song.

It was too late. He had lost her love when he broke his word and rescued Paige instead of Leena from that hellhole she'd been trapped in. He didn't have a doubt that he loved her, but all the love in his heart wouldn't be enough to save his damned soul. He was now truly lost. She would never love him after he committed this crime. He would never deserve her love.

But she would be safe.

With new determination, Mike parks the car on the side of the street. He doesn't even remember driving here, but it's only once he turns the engine off and is left in an eerie silence, that he realizes how lost in thought he was.

Somewhere in the distance he hears a muffled pounding and some people screaming, though that may just be his heart trying to escape his chest. He catches his eyes beginning to drift to the passenger seat beside him, and forces his gaze straight ahead again, refusing to look at what he knows the seat holds.

He turns his head to the left, away from the seat, and stares at the house across the street. There is a lone light burning out of the living room window. The other houses on the street are dark. As Mike stares out at the window, the person who he knows occupies the house, his resolve hardens along with his jaw. This has to be done. This evil has to be stopped.

He finally turns to the seat next to him. The seat is empty except for the gun that gleams against the black leather of the seat. The only other thing occupying the seat is an old rumpled piece of paper.

Mike hesitates momentarily looking between the two. The gun is powerful. It's silver shining in the moonlight. The paper looks weak in comparison. He doesn't even know why he brought it.

Yes, he does. He brought it because it was his childhood drawing that Paige had thrown back in his face when she screamed at him about how he had changed, and everything he said was now lies.

She was right of course. She always was. Even now as he stares at the paper, Mike is realizing a part of him is still hoping Paige will somehow save him from himself. The childhood scrawl is fading on the worn paper, much like Mike's resolve to serve his country as an FBI agent. It just isn't enough. There's too much evil in the world. He was naïve to think he could fight it and win as an FBI agent.

He reaches out and wraps his hand around the cool handle of the pistol. He swings his feet out of the car to touch the road, but somehow he can't leave the car. He finally turns back and grabs the piece of paper, shoving it roughly into his back pocket. He can't leave it behind. He has to carry it along to feel the weight of all the dreams he's giving up.

Mike walks up the lawn, avoiding the sidewalk to the door. He crouches below the window, hidden from sight from the street by the shrubbery. He needs to look inside the house. Plot out how he will execute his plan.

Peaking up, hidden by the darkness of the night by any insiders, Mike finally looks in through the glass, his eyes swiftly lock on his prey.

Detective Sid Markum stands in the middle of the yellow living room. It's a sparsely decorated house, clearly a bachelor pad. There's a couch, a tv that looks like it's from the eighties, a lamp, and a mismatched coffee table. There's a messy desk in the corner with a ripped office chair.

Sid, is not sitting though. He's standing in the middle of the room, wearing a wrinkled dress shirt and a tie that is as always just slightly crooked. He's holding a glass of whiskey and talking to himself. Mike can't hear what he's saying, but watches as Sid laughs to himself, and Mike smirks smugly.

"That's right jackass, laugh now at your own stupid jokes. By the time tonight's done you won't be laughing." Mike mutters under his breath.

Mike has seen all he needs to see. He begins to shift positions quietly to sneak around back, but then something stops him dead in his tracks. His blood races cold as he stares into the window and realizes he has made a crucial mistake.

Sid is not talking himself.

Sid is talking to the beautiful blonde who walks sultrily out of the kitchen into the living room and clinks glasses her whiskey glass against his.

God no. Anyone but her.

Anyone but Paige.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I want to finish this story, and I want to do it my way despite the trolls. I'm working on some backup plans. Stay tuned.

* * *

What is Paige doing inside Sid Markham's house? Mike didn't even know Paige knew the corrupt cop. Mike's heart is pounding in his chest as he leans up against the building, hiding out of sight. He knows it's ridiculous but even though he's hidden by the darkness of the night, he feels like Paige's eyes see right through him. Curiosity gets the best of him though, and he again peaks up through the window.

He hasn't seen Paige in weeks, and she's even more beautiful than he remembers. His heart aches as he watches her, smiling at Sid. Listening intently to whatever he's saying. She's barefoot in his living room, dressed in the same purple dress that she wore the first night Mike saw her. He always loved that dress on her. The way it hugged her curves tightly, the way Mike longed to hold her. Just like that first night, he couldn't help but stare.

Apparently the dress was having a similar effect on Sid, who took Paige's glass from her and set them both down on the coffee table. Like a shark, he slowly circled around Paige, coming up close behind her. Paige smirked to herself, fully aware of the effect she was having on Sid, but unaware of Mike watching from outside.

Sid stood close behind her, his left hand curling around her hip and his right hand coming up to brush her long hair to the side, letting his finger trail over her exposed neck. A visible shiver ran up her spine and she closed her eyes as his lips came to follow the path his finger traced. Mike couldn't tell if she shivered from desire or disgust. Either way, he had seen enough.

He walked in a haze back to his car, and slammed the door. He sat in the darkened driver's seat taking deep breaths and fighting back the urge to scream. Sid Markham had taken everything from Mike, and now he had her too. It was like a sick twisted alternate universe. When Mike had first met the rumpled unassuming crooked cop, he had no idea that he was capable of all this. Mike had been so cocky. How did he get to this desperate point?

Mike placed the gun back on the seat beside him. He knew he would have no use for it tonight. He couldn't risk anything while Paige was here. She could not see his fall. Even if she left, he couldn't trust himself to be able to handle the job in this emotional state. All he can do is wait. So in the dark silent car he sits and waits, trying to figure out how to work this sudden twist into his plans.

Time seems to crawl to a stop and rush through him all at the same time. Mike doesn't know if it's minutes or hours he sits in that car before he sees Sid hold the front door open for Paige to emerge.

Mike's slouches down low in his seat, his fingers bawling into fists as he watches. Sid kisses Paige on the lips goodnight, and then she turns and walks down the steps.

Once the door is closed behind her he silently emerges from his car, unnoticed by Paige in the darkness. She is walking casually ahead of him, clearly lost in thoughts about the events of the evening inside Sid's house that are unknown to Mike. He can't tell what she's thinking, but he can tell whatever it is has all her concentration.

It is the only reason Mike manages to sneak up silently behind her.

With both hands he wraps the clean strip of cotton he holds around her mouth, pulling tightly so she can't scream. Her hands automatically come flying up to prevent her attacker, but Mike is prepared for this too. In a flash her wrists are cuffed together.

Next he goes for her ankles with a rope. She fights him of course, but his weight crashes against her legs and she loses her balance and falls forward. Mike winces at the loud cracking noise as her head hits the sidewalk. She is only fazed for a moment before she resumes her struggles against him. She's kicking with all her might, until he finally restrains her, tying her ankles together, leaving her panting in defeat on the ground, completely bound.

Standing up and looking around to make sure no one heard the struggle, Mike quickly picks her up, and throws her over his shoulder, carrying her back to his car.

She begins to wiggle again, still fighting him even though the only thing she can hope to accomplish by it at this point, is getting dropped. Mike admires her persistence though as she writhes in his arms. As long as she's fighting he knows she's alive.

He swiftly sets her into the trunk of his car, and it's the first time she lays eyes on her attacker. He sees the moment she recognizes him in the dark. Her eyes widen in surprise and quickly narrow from a look of panic and fear to a glare of pure hatred.

At this point she ceases all struggling, accepting this strange fate for now. Her eyes just staring him down with that piercing glare of death. Mike is caught in her gaze, unable to look away. Even though her eyes are anything but welcoming, it's been too long since he's seen those beautiful green eyes looking back at him. The noise of a neighbor taking out the trash brings Mike back to reality, and he reluctantly closes the door to the trunk and quickly drives away.

When he gets to the parking lot of where he's been hiding out for the past few weeks, Mike rushes around and sighs in relief as he opens the trunk to find Paige still there and glaring at him. He'd been afraid something would happen on the drive. Now that he was reunited with her, he just wanted to be near her again no matter how pissed she may be with him.

Mike carries Paige like a bride across the threshold of the small motel room. Luckily the seedy motel is the kind of place where no one asks questions. Even if there's a man carrying a gagged and bound woman into his room. She has stopped struggling for the moment, but he can tell by the darting of her eyes that she's taking in her surroundings, planning her escape.

Once she's seated, locked as comfortably as possible to the shabby motel chair, he busies himself around the room gathering a wet cloth, some bandages and ointment. She glares up at him as he presses a cold compress to the bruise that's forming on her forehead from where her head hit the cement. He avoids her eyes, tenderly caring for her wounds. Thankfully she seems alright. Just a few bruises and scratches.

When he's done, he bashfully cleans up and stands before her with his hands on his hips, not quite sure what to do now. It's not like he was planning on kidnapping her tonight. She raises an eyebrow at him with impatience and makes a muffled noise of displeasure. Even with the gag in place Mike can understand her perfectly.

"Ok, yes I'm going to remove your gag. Just let me talk first, ok?" He answers her in a flustered tone, as if she has any choice but to listen right now. "Look, I'm sorry about this, but I needed to talk to you and I couldn't risk you making a scene in the street. Paige, I've been wanting to talk to you for days, but I just couldn't find a way. Every branch of the government is after me and I need to lay low right now."

Of course she doesn't respond other than a continued glare, but Mike continues to talk. Trying to explain, and make her understand. He had no choice.

"I don't know who to trust. You're the only one, Paige. The only person I can trust. But they know that. Everyone knows how I feel about you and I know they're watching the house. With Graceland on lockdown, I would have no chance of getting to you there. Paige, I know you hate my guts, and you don't trust me, but you've got to believe me. I've been set up. I'm not the leak, and the real guy is out there and this whole thing goes deeper than we ever imagined. He's the head of the gang task force for christ sake, and he may be just the beginning. I've got to stop this. Somehow, I've just got to take him down. Paige, you've got to believe me. Please." Mike begs.

He waits for her to consider his plea, and gives himself a moment to gather the courage to hear what she has to say. He knows it won't be good, but he can't put it off any longer.

Mike comes up behind her and unties the gag from her mouth. He prepares himself for a barrage of insults and obscenities but the silence that follows is worse.

Finally Mike can take the silence no longer a mutters a weak, "Are you hurt? I mean, I didn't break anything or injure you too badly..."

"So you're stalking me now?" Paige demands harshly, cutting him off.

"What? No! I didn't even know you were going to be there tonight. What were you doing in Lieutenent Sid Markum's living room anyways?" Mike demands. What did she think he was? Some jealous exboyfriend? Ok, yes technically he was, but that wasn't why he did this.

"I'm dating him." She spits out harshly. "What were you doing there?"

"You've got to be kidding me." Mike mutters, running his hand down his face. His life just couldn't get worse. Maybe it's not what he thought. Maybe she was undercover or something, anything to make this a little bit more bearable. "How… how did you even meet him? Did Briggs put you up to this?"

"No. He approached me in a bar one night. Offered to buy me a drink. What were you doing there Mike?" Paige says simply, turning the question back to him once again. When Mike can't answer her, she looks around the motel room in disbelief. The room is a mess of papers and garbage, and Mike is suddenly embarrassed, wishing he had cleaned up for his hostage. "This is where you've hiding out?"

"I couldn't run, Paige." Mike says simply. "You know me. You know I couldn't."

"I don't know you at all anymore Mike!" She yells harshly, the force of her words rocking the chair. "No one heard from you. What was I supposed to think? I thought you were guilty, or captured or even dead and you've been here all along?!"

"Paige, I'll explain everything later. I will, ok? Just you've got to trust me just one last time. Please, Paige. Don't trust Sid. He's lying to you. I can't tell you everything yet, but I promise I will. Just know, he's dangerous, you've got to stay away from him."

"Trust you? You're telling me SID is dangerous?! You're the one who abducted me in the trunk of a damn car and is on the run from the cops Mike!" Paige screams at him, and Mike knows she has no reason to trust him, but he needs her to. "What does Sid have to do with all this? What were you really doing there tonight?"

"I can't tell you." Mike says weakly. "Just please Paige. Stay away from him."

"I can't." Paige admits, averting her eyes.

"You actually… you have feelings for him." Each word feels like a knife in his heart as he says them outloud. Before he can stop himself he lamely asks, "Do you feel about him the way you felt about me?"

"You know what? I like his company because he never makes me feel like anything! I have cried every night for you, Mike. I can't do this anymore." Paige says darkly. Mike knows he just keeps hurting her and he hates himself for it. He can't do anything right. As much as it hurt, he knew she should find someone new. Someone who deserved her. Maybe that person wasn't Mike, but he would make damn sure it wasn't Sid.

"I know, and I just don't know what to do, Paige. Tell me what to do." Mike begs her.

"Turn yourself in. Get a lawyer. If you didn't do it we'll prove it." Paige implores him. Mike shuts his eyes to her request and he shakes his head. He can't do that. Not yet.

"I can't. Sid has guys everywhere. He'll fix the trial." Mike finally knows the dark truths that Graceland has been teaching him, that sometimes the law is wrong and you need to become evil to fight it. "I can't do this until he's gone."

"Mike, do you have any proof that it's Sid?" Paige asks, and Mike knows he sounds paranoid, but he needs her to believe him.

"He did this, Paige. I know it."

"Mike please. This is crazy. Just come back to the house. We'll talk to Briggs." Paige begs. When Mike stands still, ignoring her pleas, she changes tactics. "Please, Mike... I miss you."

He turns to stare at her. He knows she's been so angry at him, but here she is, even after he's kidnapped her, giving him a look full of vulnerability and longing. She's staring at his lips, licking hers subconsciously, the way she always does right before she kisses him. She's tied to a chair though, and can't make the move herself to finish the promise. So Mike does.

He leans down and kisses her deeply. It feels like home, and like everything will be ok if he can just live in this moment. She kisses him back, her lips soft against his own, and Mike gets lost in her kiss.

Mike hears the unmistakable sound of the safety being cocked and feels his own gun being pressed into his ribs.

He slowly pulls back, his lips still glistening with her saliva. He looks into her green eyes acceptingly. Mikes kiss wasn't real. It was a distraction to get him close enough so she could grab his gun and Paige knew it. She knows how to play men so well. Even knowing it was a trick, Mike would have done it all over again for that moment with her.

She looks scared of what she might do. Like she doesn't honestly know what to believe anymore. Mike has no clue how she managed to uncuff one of her hands from the chair and grab the gun, but he hopes she wasn't so desperate to break her thumb.

"Uncuff me. Slowly. No sudden movements Mike." She says and her voice trembles.

"Are you going to shoot me, Paige?" Mike asks calmly of his former lover. Even in this moment, with her holding a gun to his side, he feels a burning connection between them. An admiration for her and all that she is. She could shoot him dead right now, and he would die loving her.

"Just let me go. Set me free. Please." She says, and he knows she means more than just out of the chair.

"You didn't need the gun." Mike leans down and softly kisses her forehead as he unlocks her other wrist, ignoring the gun poking his side. "I would have let you go."

Once he's uncuffed Paige, he walks across the room to sit defeatedly on the bed. He almost wishes she would shoot him, though he knows she won't.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Mike asks casually, staring at the floor as though nothing is changed. Like it's a lovers quarrel and not like he's just kidnapped her, or that she has a gun trained on him.

"I'll get a cab." She says snarkily. She sets the gun down and backs up cautiously to the door. When she realizes he will no longer fight her, she quietly asks, "If I asked you to run, would you?"

"If I asked you to stay away from Sid, would you?" Mike retorts. They both knew the answer. Neither one could walk away. Not while Sid Markham was alive.

She gives him one last look, and then turns and walks out the door. Leaving him in the dark.

"Soon we'll both be free, Paige." Mike promises the air, picking up the gun she left on the chair.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Crap. Writing as quickly as I can to finish up these stories. This one I admit has been dead for a while.

* * *

Mike's eyes flutter open, and the first thing he sees is the dirty beige carpet. His head pounds and he's having trouble focusing.

"Wakey, wakey."

The taunting laugh makes Mike's blood run cold. Sid. Mike tries to jump into action, but he's feeling woozy like he may throw up and his head is killing him. The adrenaline gives him a quick rush, but it's not strong enough to defeat the binds that hold him to the chair he's strapped to. Mike's eyes look around the room like an animal, nothing really coming into focus. He's tied to a chair. He's been in this room before. Where is he? Oh yeah... Sid's apartment. This is where he'd been breaking into to kill Sid. His gun! Where was his gun?

"Looking for this?" Sid twirls the gun to the side of Mike's head. He can't see Sid out of his peripheral vision but he knows he's there. How did he know Mike was coming for him? How did he overpower him? The injury on his head tells Mike he must have been knocked out. The last thing he remembers is sliding the backdoor open after he picked the lock.

"You know Mikey, I'm disappointed. After all the grief you've given me, I really thought you'd be more original than to break into my place. What? Were you looking for evidence or something? You think I'd be stupid enough just to leave stuff lying around like a paycheck stub from the cartels?" Sid taunts. Mike gives up on fighting against his binds for now, as he tries to think of his next move and ignore Sid's taunts.

It's difficult though when Sid comes right in front of him and puts on a mocking face of surprise "Oh, were you planning on killing me? Was that it? Were you going to bust in and just shoot me dead for sleeping with your little girlfriend, or were you just planning to rough me up a little? Were you at least going to try to make it look like an accident?"

"Why am I still alive?" Mike asks, cutting straight to the point.

"Is that what you think of me? Come on Mikey, I'm not such a bad guy." Sid taunts from where he circles behind Mike's chair like a shark, staying just out of his vision. Leaning in close, Mike can almost feel the unfettered psychotic glee radiating off of him, like heat from an oven. "In fact, just to show you what a nice guy I am, I'm going to give you a gift agent Warren. I'm going to give you a chance to say goodbye."

Mike again tugs at the plastic zipties holding his forearms to the chair. They're tight enough so he cant free his arms, but his right wrist has been left free. Sid sets a pen in his hand. Mike wishes he could get enough leverage to stab it through his throat. In front of him Mike's eyes focus on the blank paper. FBI stationary, taken from Mike's desk. He sees now why Sid kept him alive. He expects Mike to write a suicide note.

"You're out of your goddamn mind." Mike scoffs trying to sound brave, but things are not looking good for him.

"Write the note Mike. Make a list of all the things you should have been, but you're not. How you failed. How you can't live with yourself anymore. How you just need to end it all. I mean it's all true right? Just put it in writing." Sid taunts.

"You're going to kill me anyways why not just get it over with?" Mike tries to move but his restraints are unyielding. He can feel the cold tip of the gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Because it would upset Paige. If I kill you in self defense, sure the bureau will believe me. I'll be painted as a hero for taking down the traitor who's the leak to the cartels." Sid says tauntingly, he then leans in close to whisper in Mike's ear, "But I like Paige, and I have a feeling she might be a bit upset if I killed you. If you kill yourself though, a failure, wrecked over the guilt of what you did, I could be there to comfort her. _And I so enjoy comforting her_."

"Go to hell." Mike gasps at the unmasked lust in Sid's voice. "I'm not doing you any favors."

"Oh but here's the thing Mike... Paige is a curious little girl, and if she started looking into things, I'd have to kill her too. And that would leave me very put out." Sid taunts, and Mike squeezes his eyes shut at the thought of Paige dying.

"She's too smart for you…" Mike says, but his voice is faltering. He wants to believe it, but Sid is dangerous and Paige doesn't know when to let things go. It was all too easy to imagine her investigating into Mike's death at the hands of Sid. He considers whether it's worth the risk, or if he should just write the damn note. His life is forfeit at this point. He's only got maybe an hour left if he's lucky. What can he best do with his last few moments to make sure Paige or someone else finishes out what he failed to do in taking down Sid... What can he do to protect her from suffering the same fate.

"That dumb little blonde of yours played right into my hands. You must have done a number on her Mikey, because she was so easy to sweet talk. So willing. She was just desperate for a man to come along and take care of her. A warm body after you left her alone so many nights. After you betrayed her trust. Left her broken. Weak and vulnerable. Anyone could have come along... I suspect a lot of men did before I got there. You're lucky she finally found me. I imagine the poor little girl was easy pray out at those bars. They probably just lined up to wait their turn between her legs..." Sid taunts.

Mike's hands tighten on the chair, and he suddenly knows what he wants to do with his last few minutes on earth. He wants to cause Sid Markum as much pain as possible.

Bringing his head back, he slams it into Sid's face as he leans in close to taunt him. Mike's satisfied as he hears the deranged cop curse and feels the hot blood spilling onto the back of Mike's head. He again futily strains to free himself from the ropes binding him, when another rope wraps around his neck and all the oxygen is cut off as Sid chokes him from behind. Mike's fingers curl and slip and he gasps uselessly, the world beginning to fade to flashes of red and black.

This is it... this is the end for Mike, he knows it. It's not how he wanted to go. A disgrace. A failure. He's not what he thought he would be. He's not anything.

He has done some horrible things with his life, but he can't have been all bad because the last thing he sees in his blurry vision is a silhouette of Paige glowing like an angel.


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: FINALLY FINISHED THIS STORY! Literally took me a year to find my mojo for this one again... Stupid internet trolls who threatened me, but it is now finished (It's not my favorite but it's done). This one is admittedly a little strange because it's based on a song and this chapter is written somewhat from the point of view of someone who's in complete shock.

* * *

Mike is surprised to open his eyes.

He didn't know what he expected death to feel like, but he thought at least he'd be free from the pounding pain in his head. He's not. He wonders what sick game Sid's playing at and wishes he would just stop toying with Mike and get it over with already.

He's free from the chair he'd been bound to, lying facedown on the carpet. He lays still for a moment, sure that the moment he shows he's conscious again he's going to get kicked in the ribs. He can't fight Sid in this condition. The carpet is wet and he turns his head groggily, preparing for the world of pain that awaits him. The dampness is warm and soaking his face he sees red, everywhere. The blood is warm sticky, and seems unending. His eyes barely focus beyond the blood to see Sid's lifeless eyes staring back at him.

He doesn't remember killing him. He remembers struggling against him, the rage, the anger, the pain. Could it be possible he murdered Sid and didn't remember doing it? It has to be… but it doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. The last few minutes, or hours, who knows how long are completely lost to Mike. His hands are trembling and he feels like he's choking on Sid's blood which is everywhere.

His hands come to the carpet and he sits up in horror staring at the man across from him. He had shot men before, but never like this. He stares at the bullet hole on Sid's forehead that looks like a third eye staring lifelessly back at him. Mike brings a bloodsoaked hand up to push his hair back from his face. Before he can control it, he turns to the side and heaves the contents of his stomach onto the bloodsoaked carpet. He's not sure if the nausea is from the head injury, the confusion, or the gruesome sight in front of him.

A hand touches his shoulder, and Mike jerks backwards. Someone else is here. He's going to die. He's going to die like Sid Markum is dead in front of him. He's too weak to fight. The hands pull him to his knees, and he turns, prepared to do his best and is shocked to see Paige standing there. He's not sure if he's hallucinating. This must all be a bad dream, because he doesn't remember the logical steps that led to this, and everything is spinning. He hears nothing except the pounding in his head like a drum.

"Mike…"

It was as if she wasn't talking. All Mike could see was the blood flowing from Sid's head onto the faded carpet and Paige standing there.

Mike's heart is beating in his chest as he tries to make sense of it all. He did it. He murdered Sid. And Paige is here, oh God she must have seen. Mike doesn't even remember pulling the trigger. The struggle, the fight, everything was a blur. He must be in shock. He's gasping for air, and his fingers come to his neck, which is bruised and sore. Paige is trying to pull him up to his feet. She's saying something to him, but it's as if she isn't talking because Markum's bleeding on the floor as she's speaking. Things aren't adding up. Oh god what did he do?

Paige is saying something, but the blood is pouring and the blood is pounding in his ears, and it's as if she isn't talking because there's so much blood and what is she saying?

He lets her drag him backwards, stumbling in slow motion, like the air has jellified around him. She drags him out of the room, into the kitchen. Mike's eyes are darting around confused. He still sees Sid, lying there, his head bleeding. He doesn't know where he is or why she's brought him here. She sits him down on the table. She's still talking, but it's like she's talking through a fog and he can't… He just can't. His heart is pounding in his chest and his skin is cold and clammy. He looks down to his hands. What did he do?

Mike looks to his hands the gun isn't in them. His head is forced up by her hands and suddenly he's staring into green eyes. She's saying his name. Trying to get him to do something, what? Leave? But the gun isn't in his hands? Where is the gun?

He tries to focus, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

When he finally opens his eyes again, he is a little more centered.

He stares into the green eyes in front of him, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The intensity of her gaze is too much and his eyes lower. Her mouth is still moving, but the words aren't quite reaching his brain. He watches the soft pink lips move for a moment, distracted by the way they press together to make the "Mmm" sound in his name. He remembers a time when those lips were his. The way they'd curl into a smile, or press against his skin. Those days are as dead as Markum.

His eyes drop lower in shame, down to her hands which are resting on his knees. It's not an intimate touch, more like she's just trying to keep him from getting up and wandering off, but Mike can't remember the last time Paige touched him. His eyes narrow in on her hands, and he reaches down to take one of her hands in his own. She stops talking at this, watching him in confusion as he raises her palm up in front of his face, examining it, carefully manipulating each digit between his fingers.

She brings the hand to his cheek, trying to look into his eyes, but he closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into her palm. He then slowly turns his head into her hand, his lips caressing her palm in a kiss. He breathes deeply and smells the gun powder.

He knows. He knows, but he can't believe it. But he hates the unbelievable simple truth. It should have been him. Not her. Oh god, anyone but her. He kisses her palm before turning his blue eyes up to stare at her, finally able to focus. As he stares up at her beautiful face, finally the blood stops pounding in his ears and he can hear her, but she's silent as she stares down at him. She's bracing herself. She realizes he now knows. Knows what she did.

Everything is hazy, jumbled and dark but Mike knows one thing. Mike didn't pull the trigger. He looks up at her, his silent eyes seeing her in a new light.

"Paige, what have you done?" When she doesn't answer him, just looks away stubbornly, he screams her, "PAIGE! What did you-"

"I couldn't let you die!" She yells back, her voice echoing harsh through the house, cutting him off.

"You killed a cop..." Mike closes his eyes as he tries to sort through this. No, no, no. This is all wrong. It was never supposed to be her. It was supposed to be Mike. His life was already ruined. The one God damn thing he swore he would do right in this world was keep Paige safe and he failed at that. Why would she do this? "How? Why? Why did you do this?"

"Why do you think?" His eyes widen in understanding, but it can't be that.

"I thought… I thought you hated me." Mike's voice is barely a whisper.

"I know what it looks like. How I'm acting. But it's not that. This doesn't change anything…" Paige mutters quickly.

"This changes everything!" Mike stands up, placing both his hands on either side of her. "I thought you hated me, but when you go and do something so incredibly stupid… God why can't you just hate me? Why do you, HOW could you lo-"

"I don't love you. I know how it seems like I might with the way I'm acting but I don't." Paige tries to establish this point very clearly, but she may as well not be talking, because the truth is written in Sid Markum's blood all over the apartment, "I might have at one point but I don't now."

At this point, it seems like Paige is just trying to convince herself. And she's failing at it. Mike stares at her tenderly, completely heartbroken. She'd killed Sid. What future did they have together? Him in jail for being the leak for the FBI. Sid Markum had set Mike up so well all the evidence pointed to him, and now the only man who could prove he was innocent was dead.

And Paige had killed a cop in his home. She could argue self defense, but only if a jury would believe Sid was trying to kill Mike. And who would believe that? Sid Markum's record was spotless. Mike's on the other hand was ruined, and Paige's would be ruined by association. Her whole life would be ruined because of him.

"Paige, where is the gun?" Mike asks, looking at her intently. "We've got to wipe your prints from it. You need to get out of here."

"What?" She asks, unable to follow the leaps his mind is taking. He has to keep Paige safe. Has to protect her.

"Did anyone know you were coming here tonight?" Mike asks urgently.

"No, Mike. No you are not doing this. I did not save your pathetic life just to have you confess to crimes you never committed-" Paige sees where Mike is going with this and begins to fight it him, shoving him roughly in the chest.

He grabs her wrists forcefully, drags her towards him and kisses her hard. His hands smear blood all over her clean skin, and he can taste her tears on his lips. He kisses her punishingly, bruising her lips for daring to love him. She instantly kisses him just as hard in response, biting at his lip and forcing her tongue past his demanding one. When she finally pulls away, more tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, Mike leans in close still holding her wrists in his vice like grip.

"I may not have killed Sid, but I would have. I am not an innocent, Paige. I have committed crimes. I didn't kill Sid and I'm not the monster he was, but I have lied, covered up evidence, robbed banks, sold drugs. I have kidnapped and tortured men..." He shuts his eyes tightly, before he admits the one thing he knows will make her hate him. "Paige, I burned Lina. After she died I burned her body, and then I lied to you."


	5. Chapter 5

Her lips set in a thin line, and Mike releases her wrists, knowing he's just won a fight he didn't truly want to win. He waits for the verbal wrath he's sure is about to be unleashed upon him finally admitting his guilt. Facing his crimes to the only person whose judgment he values.

She crosses her arms over her chest and stares down at him, resolution set across her face.

Mike prepares himself for her response.

"Good. Then you shouldn't have a problem adding Grand Arsen to the list when we burn Sid's house and all the evidence down to the ground around him." She says, with a stubbornness that only Paige could display. Mike's shocked, but he can't help but admire her strange brand of macabre optimism.

"Paige, without Sid, I'll never clear my name." Mike's voice is pleading for her to see reason. "We both don't need to go down for this. Just go back to your life. Forget me. I'll run for as long as I can."

There's a long pause and Mike hopes it means that Paige is realizing that his is the only way.

"Croatia." She finally says.

"What?"

"Croatia has no extradition agreement with the US. It's government is fairly stable. With half a million dollars you could live comfortably there." Paige says practically.

"Where am I going to get half a million dollars?" Mike asks critically.

"Markum keeps it in his mattress. The bills are unmarked." Paige says, fumbling through her purse.

"Paige, the entire government is looking for me. Especially after this. Look someone had to have heard the gunshots, just get out of here."

"Then don't waste time arguing with me." Paige says, digging into her bag she pulls out a plastic bag and digs through some documents before she tosses him a passport.

"You just carry this around with you?" Mike looks down critically at the incredibly realistic passport in his lap with his photo on it.

"I thought you might need it." Paige says simply, putting the rest of the documents back in the plastic bag to put away.

"Michael J. Richards." Mike looks down at the passport in his hand. Mike grabs her hand before she can put away the second passport she holds. "Is that yours?"

She flushes pink as Mike looks down at the passport in her hand.

"Paige A. Richards?" He reads her "Common last name, huh?"

"I made these before." She says defensively, "Back when we were still… I thought just in case we needed to..."

"Elope." Mike finishes for her.

"...Run." She corrects him, glaring at him, "They would work. Don't read too much into it. It was a long time ago."

"And you've kept them in your purse all this time…" Mike says watching her as she turns away from him, wiping his gun clean.

"Like I said, don't read too much into it." She turns to turn off the pilot light under the stove. Mike shakes his head in awe. She's really prepared to burn this place to the ground to protect him.

"They'll come after you, you know. It'll come out that you were dating Markum. They'll find out about you and me with a little investigating. Jess will tell them, or someone from the house. You're not safe here." Mike says softly.

"I'll figure it out. If we do this right, they can't prove anything." Paige says quietly.

"Come with me." Mike says softly.

"Mike just go. Start over. Forget about me." Paige insists, focusing intently on her work.

"I won't go without you. Either you're coming with me, or I'm marching down to the police station and turning myself in for the murder of Sid Markum and all the other crimes they've accused me of." Mike says, his eyes trained upon her.

"Do you know what your asking me?" Paige says, not turning to look back at him.

"Yes." Mike says resolutely, "I'm asking you to start over. Look at me Paige. It's the only way." He suddenly needs her to look at him. It's the only way he can read her. He needs her to look at him if he has a hope of being anything. Without her, it doesn't matter if he's in Croatia or behind bars. It will all be the same.

Mike's breath catches in his throat as she slowly turns back towards him, her green eyes still lowered to the ground. As the lashes flutter upwards and his blue eyes meet hers, he once again knows the unbelievable truth without her needing to speak the words.

"Come on."

* * *

This story was based on the Counting Crows "Cowboys"

Cowboys on the road tonight  
Crying in their sleep  
If I was a hungry man with a gun in my hand,  
And some promises to keep,  
Who wanted to change the world,  
What's as easy as murder?  
It's all headlights and vapour trails  
And Circle K killers

And I know I could look at anyone but you now  
I could fall under the eyes of anyone  
But you now, now, now, now

So come on, come on, come on  
Oh, come on through now  
Come on, come on, come on  
Oh, come on through now

This is a list of what I should have been  
But I'm not  
This is a list of the things that I should have seen  
But I'm not seeing  
The look in your eyes  
As his fingertips slid down your neck  
And made you shiver  
I'm just turning away from where I should have been  
Because I am not anything  
Oh, anything, oh

The President's in bed tonight  
But he can't get to sleep  
'Cause all the cowboys on the radio are killers  
And I believe she loves you  
'Cause you never make her feel like anything  
She said, "I wouldn't feel a thing,  
But I can feel, I can feel..."

And I know I could look at anyone but you now  
I could fall under the arms of anyone  
But you now, now, now, now

So come on, come on, come on  
Oh, come on through now  
Come on, come on, come on  
Oh, come on through now

This is a list of what I should have been  
But I'm not  
This is a list of the things that I should have seen  
But I am not seeing  
The look in your eyes  
As his fingers are unzipping your dress  
And it makes you shiver  
I'm just turning away from what I shouldn't see  
Because I am not anything  
Oh, anything, no

Everyone's in bed tonight  
But nobody can sleep  
'Cause all the satellites are watching through our windows  
She says she doesn't love me, like, like she's acting  
But it's as if she isn't talking  
'Cause Mr. Lincoln's head is bleeding  
On the front row while she's speaking

I said, "come on all you cowboys,  
All you blue-eyed baby boys,  
Oh come on all you dashing gentlemen of summer,  
I'll wait for you where Saturday's a memory,  
And Sunday comes to gather me,  
Into the arms of God who welcome me,  
Because I believe, oh I believe..."

And I know I could look at anyone but you now  
I could fall under the eyes of anyone  
But you now, now, now, now

So come on, come on, come on  
Oh, come on through now  
Come on, come on, come on  
Oh, come on through now

This is a list of what I should have been  
But I'm not  
This is a list of the things that I should have seen  
But I'm not seeing you look at me  
So please, won't you look at me?  
'Cause I'm not seeing you look at me  
Oh, oh, I, I will make you look at me  
Or I am not anything


End file.
